I know it’s all just material crap, and I should be more enlightened, but if the material crap talks to me I do get attached in all senses of the word. I’ve mourned every Roomba that died on me, I delight in Alexa’s asides, and I do love the many ways the Mickey Mouse app on my Apple Watch giggles and tells me the time.
Behold, the fate of Mickey:
I put my watch back on after a shower. I was fastening the strap on the back of my wrist, it slipped out of my hand, and Mickey took a gainer directly to the wood floor and landed on his face.
And of course, I’ve already heartlessly exchanged him for a newer model. Old watch too wrecked up to trade in. I still have it, and when I’m emotionally strong enough I’m going to do an autopsy. I’ve already peeked at his guts. It would be interesting if I could use tape to reconstruct his glass and get him back again. He does show his face for a moment on occasion if I poke at it enough.
The watch is dead. Long live the watch.
(Note the Velcro wrap strap designed to ensure no further Mickey suicides.)
